Slytherout
by Slytherinout
Summary: What if Draco had never met Harry Potter before the Twizard Tournament? What if the Boy Who Lived was a Durmstrang student? What would happen if the two boys met now? I disrupted time a bit so the story is more logic.
1. Chapter 1

The stadium was full. Full of wizards yelling Viktor Krum's name aloud. Draco sunk further in his chair, thinking that he didn't have as much attention at HIS Quidditch matches. Of course, school and world cup were different, but he was a Malfoy. He deserved all the cheers and attention the seeker had. After all, he was only a year older. He blew on one of his blond hair falling in his eyes and mumbled under his breath.

"He is not even that good at the game…"

What he took out of this, was just a severe look from his father, Lucius. Malfoy senior didn't care about Quidditch, he was only there to show the minister that he was trustworthy. Draco rolled his eyes and sank deeper in his reflexion. Tomorrow, school was starting. What a bore. It was his fifth year, three more to go. That was way to long for the Slytherin. A Malfoy's patience had a limit. He emerged from his thoughts when an ambassador that was sitting next to him rose on his feet. He was screaming, probably some insults in his mother tongue, to the Irish that had won the game. Draco stood up to his feet, and instead of joining the desperate cries of the supporters around him, he slid between them before he reached for the door and opened it reaching for french air. It wasn't his choice to come here. He liked the sport, but he preferred playing rather than watching. Were is the fun at watching people having fun? _There is none,_ he thought. Draco brought his stare to the stadium lights up in the dark sky and stayed there for what seemed like hours, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his father frowning at him. He was going to be yelled at. Again. He got up and dusted his large green robes that costed his beloved mother a fortune. He tried to keep eye contact with his father. A challenge. Lucius glance was fiery but not hateful. Only full of wrath and impatience. Of course, the son broke first, lowering his head to stare at his hands, before mumbling again a soft

"I am sorry Father."

Lucius did not reply, he only squeezed Draco's shoulder harder. The Slytherin felt his guts being squashed by a giant hand and that his head was on the edge of explosion, dark covered the bright lights and squashed him. As soon as the sensation came, it disappeared, and when Draco looked up, he was in his bedroom, alone, his suitcase opened wide. The message was clear: he would have to pack his luggage instead of the house elves. That was a dull punition, but he executed himself. He thought that tomorrow, at the same time, he would be in the Slytherin common room with his friends, sipping hot chocolate with too much marshmallow in it, and telling bad sex jokes. He started to pack his robes at last, he put a dragon stuffed animal in it. Marley the Dragon that had accompanied for the last sixteen years of his life. The packing had let him think about the last four past years. They had been long and boring, excepting potion class. Potion class was the best, and the only one he could ace because Snape was his godfather. Draco liked defence against the dark arts to, but he sucked at it. He was way better at hexing people. He has made friends, for sure: Blaise and Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle, that were actually more dogs than friends. They were his hexing partners but thought they were all as close as they could be, Draco felt lonely. People at Hogwarts were not interesting. He tried to get into a relationship with this girl once, it didn't work out. He didn't even remember her name. _That's maybe why I got dumped._ He didn't care. Girls were not interesting. Boys were not interesting either now that he was thinking about it. The only wizard that turned in a flame inside his heart was Jérémie Buldabber, a model for sportswear. The only problem was, he was a mudblood and french. He sighed at these thoughts and closed his case, slipping in his bed. He will find the right person. Someday. For sure.

Next day, at eleven, the train arrived as usual. He met his friends in one of the wagons, as usual. They talked about there awesome break, as usual. The journey was quick and full of sweets, as usual. The Sorting Hat sorted. The old man that was the headmaster of their school would stand up and make a speech, like every year. Draco was bored. Every year was the same, like the headmaster's speech. Everyday was alike, like the headmaster's robes. What would change this year ? Probably nothing. Draco imagined himself as a princess, Prince Charming saving him from his boredom on his noble steed. Visualising himself in a pink puffy dress made him laugh. Pansy noticed it immediately.

"What? Does Oldie make you laugh?"

"No"

"Good… Because what he is saying is interesting, for once"

That didn't make Draco listen more to the "oldie" as Pansy called him. He sank once more in the depth of his mind. His prince would take him so far from England. They will go to France together on a Dragon's back and they will eat Croissants and smoke cigarettes for the rest of their life. Then he could at least meat Jérémie Buldabber. Well that was a charming Prince Charming. The Slytherin laughed again under his breath. _What would be my type of men?_ He hesitated a few instant. Listening to and old senile prat, or listening to his own mind crap? The choice was quick made. His prince would have a crown. _Of course he would have a crown, you dumbass…_ And a sword, evidently. He would have humour and wouldn't be boring. He would be taller than him and have messy short green hair, because why not? Green was a nice color after all. The princes eyes will be as black as the night and his skin will be a light blue. He would glow and smell like cotton candy. he wouldn't be British so he can have a cute accent. Would it be Russian? French? Spanish? Japanese? _I do not know, only that it is the cutest thing I have ever heard. Yeah, his voice will sound like heaven._ This time, he laughed louder and Pansy and Blaise threw him a killing glance, shushing him. They will probably murder him when Dumbledore will be done talking about his summer vacations and his socks but the thought of a blue prince smelling like candy saving him was worth a laugh. The Slytherin took a piece of chocolate cake that had magically appeared on the table and took a bite out of it. His prince would be a fairy princess. _Yes, this is brilliant. He will be called Arnaud and…_


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the review! And sorry for the waiting…

Chapter 2-

The doors slamming wide open pulled Draco from his Prince Charming dream. He turned his head to see why there was so much noise. What he saw was a row of tall boys dressed in brown that were pacing quickly and fiercely towards the Hogwarts Headmaster. They were holding gigantic sticks that were taller than them, stumping them on the slabs, sparks spurting each time there was a collision. In the middle of the row that had been formed, a boy was doing pirouettes and jumps. He finally landed on his knees in front of the Headmaster and blew flames that took the shape of an enormous dragon that rushed towards him before dissolving in a thousand sparks before burning the silver beard of Dumbledore. Behind the boys, a tall man with a very pointy beard was walking fast, two other boys behind him. The Slytherin knew both of them. One was tall and he generally was on the first page of the Quidditch magazines that were sold throughout the Wizarding World. Viktor Krum, the seeker of the national Bulgarian Quidditch teeam. The other one was way shorter than Krum, he had messy black hair framing an angel like face, he had sparkling green eyes, a scar shaped like lightning crossing his forehead, starting over his right eyebrow and falling under his eye. He was more impressive on the Daily Prophets cover, here he just looked like an innocent kid that had no idea why he was there, and Draco had no idea why they were there either. When he looked around him, he saw a group of girls dressed in cute blue uniforms sitting at the Ravenclaw table. He frowned, the Slytherin had no idea who these girls were, and what they were doing there, he had been to busy escaping the reality. But now, the boys that appeared to be from Durmstrang, Merlin knows why they are here, were approaching Draco's table, chatting in a slavic language the blond one couldn't understand. He stared at the Quidditch player for a few seconds before he grimaced. He already hated him. This time, his attention was fully focused on Dumbledore that was already talking.

"You might wonder, my dear children, why the school of Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang Institute are present. Well you must know that our school is hosting this year the Twizard tournament" whispers rose from the tables as the news were spreading through the Great Hall. The headmaster continued "But you must know that we are in a dark period and that the tasks will not be as easy as you all think. As for, we, the teachers and I as well as the Ministry, decided to be able to participate, you will have to be older than seventeen. And…"

Draco's interest in what the Headmaster was saying was now limited. He was sixteen, thus he could not participate in that Twizard Tournament he was talking about, and thus he would not even try to participate. His life had to much value to die in a rubbish game thrown by two or three crazy wizards. So he listened to Dumbledore while observing the Durmstrang boys and The Beauxbâtons girls. What he took out of Dumbledore speech was "Monday. Gobelet of Fire. Alastor Moody. Rules. Age circle" and that was pretty much what he needed to know. He waited for the teacher to dismiss them after this long talking before he rose on his feet and fled out of the Great Hall to return to the Slytherin dormitories. He needed some sleep and needed to think. Think about what all this meant. Stranger encroaching upon _his_ territory. That's it, he hated all the Durmstrang and Beauxbâtons students. Especially Krum and Potter. They will have every single Hogwarts student around them and snatch Draco's popularity. He would have to be better than them both, maybe a lightning scar could make him look like the cute popular Potter? _No, I'd look dumb._ Then he'll just be the best seeker of all time. Before Krum. That was an excellent idea he just had. Actually the best he ever had, after stealing his father's robes. His father's robes were great.

He sunk into his bead and the door opened wide and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle and Blaise and Theodore Nott entered the room. His minions sat around his bed and stared at him for a few minutes before Goyle said.

"Potter looks like a Prat. Right Draco?"

Crabbe nodded fiercely while eating a piece of chocolate cake. Draco shrugged and Blaise laughed while Theo frowned. The Slytherin Prince started at his mulatto friend and hissed like a basilic

"What, Zabini?"

"Nothing. I think he looks like a kid. He is cute."

"Which one?" replied the blond, starting being pissed about Blaise attitude

"Well both" He burst out of laugher before he took Draco's arm "Oh man! I'll tease you with this all year long! Malfoy and his drowning popularity because two Durmstrang dicks who are cooler than him!"

"Shut up! Or i'll… Or I'll hex you!" Shrieked a furious Draco. His prince's thoughts were long gone by now. Now he was thinking that he will spend a worse year than the ones before, A longer one too, where he would have to share _his_ castle with strangers. He though : _Technically they are not strangers, everybody knows everything about them. Thanks to media._ Still. They were strangers that were squatting _his_ territory and he will kick them out of there. He would be better seeker than Krum. He would be better than Potter, in everything. He turn to his friends and smirked.

"Lets cast a glamour, people. What would we look like with Potter's eyes?"

"Probably ugly when it comes to you" Replied Blaise.

"Fuck off Zabini"

He pulled his tongue out and received a pillow in his face. His eyes widened and he grabbed the pillow before throwing it in his attacker. Theo. Followed a long pillow fight in the Slytherin dormitory. Pillow were flying thanks to _Wingardium Leviosa_ 's that were hurling from all the wizards lips in the room. When the sun was rising, the group was on the floor, sleeping on feathers that had spurted out from the pillows. Everyone except Draco, he was already planning mischievous plans to shame Potter and Krum. His plan since now were : saw their robes together, slide a snake in there bed, glue the snitch so that it could never leave the hand of the seeker, thus he could never win again. His brain was gurgling with thoughts. At five a.m he was planning a public humiliation of the Great Viktor Krum and Harry Potter. he would plunge them in such embarrassment that they would try to hide from the world and the media and never bother the Slytherin's popularity aver again. Draco grinned of a machiavellian grin. This year would actually probably be the best year he will have in Hogwarts, but first he had to sleep. He had few hours left before class started and that was enough for a Malfoy to rest. Tomorrow will start his devilish enterprise.


	3. Chapter 3

Note : _Sorry for the long waiting, I had loads of work and I wasn't particularly inspired by this depressing weather (yeah, this is a bad excuse I know). I will try to update sonner next time !)_

Chapter 3-

It was Monday afternoon, and for once, the Slytherin Prince found potion class even more boring than Divination classes, and damn they were boring. Draco did not care how Amortentia was brewed. He already knew who he loved the most on earth, of course it was him. He wanted to know who were the ones that will be picked by the Gobelet of Fire. He had bet five galleons to Blaise that Krum would be one of them and he was impatient to win his money, he was sure he was going to win. At last, Snape dismissed the students of the class room. The blond one stood up before dashing to the door when the low, slow, drawl voice of his teacher made him stop. _Of course Snape had to talk to me…_ He turned to him and said in an angels voice

"Yes, professor?"

"Mr. Malfoy, do not think I don't know what you are planing, so for the school reputations sake, hold ourself" Snape snarled.

Draco nodded in a perfectly innocent way. He walked out of the room, his hands plunged in his robes pockets. He had to change his plans, he did not want to be fired from Hogwarts, at least not yet. Surely he did not like the school, the professors - appart from his Godfather - but he had friends and cared for his education. He walked out of the castle's enceinte to catch up Pansy and Blaise, also to take a deep breathe, think of a new plan that would not tear his reputation appart.

While Hagrid was showing them how to feed a Borgun - A sort of purple pig that was the size of a tomato that mowed as a kitten in pain - Draco dashed into his mind palace. His prince Arnaud was long gone now. At this moment he was planing how to befriend Krum and Potter. That wouldn't be easy, but with his prestance and his charism, he could do it. he was a Slytherin after all, he had ambition. He emerged from his thoughts when Hagrid's voice called to his ears. He clinched his icy grey eyes into the dark shy brown professor's and sighed.

"What?" He saw Hagrid swallow before he turned his head away

"Hum… Class done sir Malfoy" He mumbled in his beard.

When Draco looked around him, he saw that he was sitting alone on his rock, his friends were long gone. They cowardly abandoned him! Probably went to admire the students put their name in the Gobelet of Fire. Draco sprung on his feet and dashed to the Great Hall. _Merlin, if Blaise and Pansy aren't there… I swear I…_

He stopped in the middle of the room. There was a giant circle in front of the Goblet, hiding the interesting stuff. He could only hear laughs through the audience. Probably the Weasleys with one of their dumb stupidities. He then heard a fizz and saw a twirl of light coming out of the Gobelet and then, two shadows sent in the skies before falling heavily on the ground. The second after, two boys with bright white hair and tremendous beards were fighting on the floor. He recognised the Weasel twins who were yelling and rolling on the floor

"My beard is brighter and longer than yours!"

"No! It's mine!'

Draco rolled his eyes to the skies. _Well that's a nice way to make fool of ourselves, and I have to hold myself._ He rolled his eyes a second time when Krum and Potter entered the room. The Quidditch player was taking big strides towards the Gobelet of Fire while the Chosen One was hopping behind him to stay near the giant boy. Draco had to admit he wasn't as tall as he looked in the magazines, actually, he was pretty short, at least for a man. He seemed to struggle to keep up with the other one. When he arrived in the middle of the great hall, Potter stopped and sat on one of the benches. The Hufflepuff table. Krum, him, did not stop, it even seemed like he was walking faster. When he arrived to the gobelet, he rose his hand and let a paper fall from his bearlike hands in it. Immediately, he turned on his heels, leaving the Great Hall, glancing for a few seconds at Granger on his way out, leaving the Chosen One with his new friends.

The Slytherin Prince sighed for the thousandth time. Here was leaving his chance to befriend the most popular wizards of the castle. Wait. Potter was still here, chatting with a boy whom Draco had never noticed before. It was a height year boy, a Hufflepuff. Of course. He had messy brown hair with brushy eyebrows and a nice smile, a soft face, warm brown eyes. Draco took a step forward, he was going to talk to the Living Boy. But what would the others think? He never talked to anyone except from his Slytherin friends. And there he was, walking towards the Hufflepuff table. _Am I mad?_ He wondered. _Probably._ His inner voice blew into his mind. He shook his head, trying to get rid of this annoying voice every and each one of us has. He finally halted in front of the small group and gulped. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit a he opened his mouth to speak before he got cut by a low voice with a heavy slavish accent.


End file.
